Necromancer
by Sarryn
Summary: Something dark has awakened and Dilandau has accidentally stumbled into it. Now a strange voice whispers of shadowy secrets and cruel deeds. Will he be able to resist its sinister pull or will he seccumb to oblivion?*Very Disturbing!*
1. Preface

Preface

From the soil of ancient wars a foul army arose. Thousands slain for power, pawns once more, move inexorably through the settlements of man. Nothing survived the wrath of their Dark Goddess and the whispering in their hollow minds. Her power could rip souls from both heaven and hell and summon terrors only dreamt in asylums. When she called the dead answered, and where she commanded they went. And what she wanted she always got.

The corpses of those slain by her terrible army rose to swell the ranks. Entire villages were swallowed by the horde and still they marched. Their Goddess wouldn't let them rest.

From the helpless ruins of a once glorious empire they shambled towards the great nations who's prosperity brought purity and life to the surrounding land. With the first touch of the Goddess' foul hand thousands died. She breathed death and decay upon the victors of them. Every mortal heard her dulcet voice filled with the sweetest oblivion and some eagerly fell into her cold arms. Those that didn't joined unwillingly.

"I will bring equality through the only means at my disposal. Kings and peasants will sleep in the same cold bed." To her still heart she brought her fleshless children and blew life from death into them.

The kingdoms rallied against her minions, but the dead cannot be killed, nor could they be stopped. Soldiers watched in horror as their slain companions rose and took up arms against them. From the forests the foul stench of death wafted forth, as the dead creatures emerged to join in the parade of darkness.

And when death finally stole over the whole world the Goddess slept and her minions fell in their place. Their work finally finished and their mistress sated. It was the end of the Dark Time when death ruled the living. 

By no means had she taken all life from the planet. Small pockets of humanity lived and then flourished with her disappearance. They spread and the living ruled Gaea again. Time fled forward and the dusty veils of forgetfulness descended upon the survivors of the Dark Time. Yet an ominous prophecy forewarned of the Goddess' awakening, but it too was forgotten.

When the first blood spilled and the Destiny Wars began the dead stirred uneasily. A soft song filtered through the soil and the dead moaned. It flowed upward in rivers of death and caressed the corpses of the recently fallen and they twitched. From her dark slumber the Dark Goddess sensed the passage of time and breathed. 

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Well, how was that? Please review and tell me what you think. Don't worry some familiar Escaflowne characters will make their debut in the next chapter. This fic is sort of along the lines of my unfinished story "Apocalyptic Fate". 


	2. Chapter One: Blood Calling

Chapter One: Blood Calling

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"Children, lovers…fathers, mothers, rulers…all mine…mine…I feel you and I know you hear me. I felt it_ for the first time since…"_

The soft voice lapsed into icy silence and the dead groaned silently in bereavement. A delicate sigh threaded through the soil and the souls in heaven and hell shuddered. 

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"So long, I've slept for so long. Too much time…time to make up. The hunger, my children, can you feel it? It calls me and I answer…I'm a slave to it…more than you can know…The poor are mine, the animals. That which has been born is mine…mine…

"Can you feel it? I do…Night has come. Their agonized death throes burn me and I desire their embrace…Feel that sword, glittering sharp, as it slices through the soft flesh. The blood…yes I can feel it seeping through my pores. I'm bathing in it…drowning in it.

"So much…too much…ah…more, I must have more…yes…The armies clash and death…aahh…Such sweetness draws me into waking…"

The ground trembled in released pleasure and the dead exulted with their Goddess and echoed her intoxicated moans. 

****

An agonized shriek filled the air and the ground gave way. Two monstrous behemoths plummeted through the dark chasm and landed with the crunch of twisted metal. From the carapace of one a slight figure staggered out, the other remained silent. Through the cloud of dust and dirt a disgruntled and highly agitated Dilandau Albatou stared at the crumpled remains of his Guymelef. He then proceeded to repeat every curse he knew, making up a few new ones while he was at it. 

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"Life…and death…"

He spun around as a soft voice insinuated itself into his mind. In the twilight of the hole he found he had fallen into some sort of cavern. From somewhere nearby the soothing chorus of a stream could be heard. He was, for all intents and purposes, alone. He glanced towards the Guymelef of the enemy. The operator most likely died from the burning steam of the damaged unit. A cruel smile crossed his face and stretched the scar down his cheek. The man's death scream had been pure musical ecstasy. 

Overhead he could still hear the clash of metal and the cries of the wounded. The ground shook ever so slightly as the huge mechanical monoliths came together. He glared impotently at the wan light from the rift he had unwittingly tumbled into. He doubted anyone, including his own elite force, would begin or even be able to search for him until the battle was done. He swore again and kicked a piece of warped metal away. Growling under his breath he settled down by his damaged unit and began plotting a way out in vain.

Hours later thirst overcame him, the battle still having not reached a conclusion, and he decided to try and find that spring he could still hear. Several times he banged his shins against various hard protrusions and repeated his entire litany of curses. Through the painfully dim light he spied a dark slash across the cavern's floor, the sound of moving liquid originating from it. Eagerly he knelt beside it and plunged his sweat-dampened face into its cool embrace.

"What the hell?" he cried. He spit out the warm, coppery liquid, but couldn't rid himself it its all too familiar flavor. He wiped his face with his hands and then held them out for inspections. His horrified stare observed the dark streaks smeared across his palms and fingers. 

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"Who drinks of me?"

An oddly rapturous pain exploding through his head. He screamed and grabbed his head, writhing beside the unnatural stream. His face, hands and mouth burned as if he had drunk from liquid fire instead of…blood. 

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"Living flesh…living man…killer of men…Am I surfeit of your kind? I'm fed by your wars, glorious, shining…This wakes me, disturbs me…killer of men…you drink of me? Do you know of what and who you slack your thirst, killer of men?"

"Get the hell out of my head." The dulcet voice laughed with crisp malice. A phantom hand brushed through his mind and seemed to pluck out the secrets he had forgotten he had. 

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"My children feel me, killer of men…They moan my name…shh…Listen to their voices…They call me from slumber as do your wars…Death, hunger…I feel the soldiers strike…Yes…Overwhelm my mind…So much…Too much…"

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." His words slurred together as he screamed out as fast as he could draw breath. 

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"Silence."

He tumbled into darkness.

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Okay, I said characters…I meant character. Dilly-sama. *cheers* Again please review, please? They make me the happiest girl in the world. 


	3. Chapter Two: Soul of Blood

Chapter 2: Soul of Blood

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"Awake, killer of men."

Dilandau lashed out and felt a flash of satisfaction as he hand connected with someone's cheek. The person cried out and stumbled away. He sat up, garnet eyes narrowed dangerously. 

"What the hell is going on?" he snarled grabbing the color of the boy, Viole, he had struck. 

"We rescued you, Lord Dilandau, from a sink hole. You'd passed out not far from your Guymelef," the boy stuttered. Dilandau growled and threw the Dragonslayer aside.

"Get out."

"Yes, my lord." The boy sketched a hasty bow and then fled the company of his irate commander. 

****

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"You are cursed."

"What? What are you talking about?" The lady of darkness grinned slyly, only the ruby of her eyes showing. 

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"You drank of me and now you are mine…I haven't felt the touch of humanity for…I've slept too long…I hunger now…Your wars…your swords…yes…I have awakened and I crave satiation."

He shivered and looked away from the burning of her eyes. A ghostly scream fled through the shadows enshrouding his mind…was he asleep? He sensed her reaching for him and he flinched. The cool fingers withdrew and she chuckled.

"What the hell do you want? Leave me alone."

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"You are a killer of men…do you have to ask? Many have felt my sleeping touch…I've walked among thousands as I slumbered, but never touched them…They scream…Souls…When I come all shall fall and rise again.

"Can you feel it? Yes…Death has walked through you many times…in many ways…Yes…So much…crimson, flowing…"

He sensed her shudder deliciously, her breathing shallow and fast. For the first time he saw war as a sexual experience and killing as sexual release. Obviously this dark entity could walk among his mind as easily as he could stroll through the Vione. 

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"Come to me, killer of men. Embrace my oblivion…Let me enfold you in gentle cold." 

A dark light burst forth and he could see her, see her too clearly. She held her arms out, from which airy funeral shrouds fluttered solemnly, and beckoned to him with pale hands. 

"Oblivion…" He felt a darkly seductive pull drawing him close. Peace dwelled within her burning shadows. The cool of her lips would stop the angry seething of his mind and bring respite from the gnawing pain. He took a step toward her, desiring nothing but her icy arms and dead heart. She smiled and waited.

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"Lord Dilandau?"

The young man glared at his elite soldier as he burst into the room. 

"What is it?"

"The dragon, my lord, is near. Emperor Dornkirk has ordered us to capture it." The silver-haired youth hurled an imprecation at his subordinate and then a bottle of wine. A dark velvet laugh echoed through his tortured mind and pale fingers trailed across his back. "But my lord it was an explicit order."

"Get out. I don't want to be disturbed. The dragon go hang himself for all I care," he roared drawing his sword on Gatti. The boy paled and retreated a few steps.

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"Kill…I crave your vitality, killer of men…Sacrifice your sword for me…Let me spread sweet death to all."

"Shut up."

"My lord?" The sword screamed through the air and stopped resting lightly against the terrified boy's neck. He swallowed audibly and stuttered out a less than intelligible sentence. 

"I said get out. Now do it." Riveted to the gleaming ribbon of steel against his jugular, Gatti attempted to nod obediently. "Good boy."

The Dragonslayer fairly flew out of his superior's room. Dilandau threw out a few curses before flopping upon the bed in irate turmoil. A cold breeze slid across his skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. She was there. That dark entity that had crept, thief-like, into his mind, slowly drawing him towards a tender suicide. 

Her marble-cold limbs twined through his body and she breathed through his own mouth, her tongue tracing strange patterns against his own. With every movement he could feel her caressing the muscles beneath his flesh. She touched him everywhere, inside and out, while whispering her seductions. He couldn't escape her. 

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"Why would you want to? All come to me…sooner or later…Take me to your heart and I will bring you the respite you yearn for." Frozen lips pressed chill kisses against his heart and breathed ice into his lungs. 

"Get the hell out of me," he screamed, writhing upon the bed in a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

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"You drank of me, killer of men…Accepted me. Invited me into your soul. You are mine as surely as those lying upon the bloodied ground below…Perhaps more so…"

"No. No. No."

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"Yes…Submit to me."

"No."

*****

Weird? Of course, what else would you expect of me? Please review and to those few (2) who have so far you've made me sooooooooo happy. This chapter and the next is dedicated to you…perhaps you don't want it to be…Well it is. Review, review, review. 


	4. Chapter Three: Travelling the Crimson Pa...

Chapter Three: Travelling the Crimson Path

Through the bright passageways of the Vione a dark shadow strode confidently against the light. It spun inky veils and draped them from every surface with its passing. A collective stillness suffused the air like a person waiting to breathe. It flickered in the corner of men's eyes and breathed the scent of freshly dug earth into their lungs. 

"Dilandau, what is the meaning of all this skulking?" Folken Lakur de Fanel demanded coldly of the pale young man before him. Dilandau smiled eerily and ran a hand through his short silver hair.

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"I'm searching, betrayer of man…" He stepped back in alarm and stared at the leader of the Dragonslayers warily. That voice, he had heard it once before. Dilandau, or the entity that inhabited him, cocked his head to one side and regarded the older man inquisitively. 

"What are you?"

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"You ask? You knew me quite well, betrayer of man…For the briefest moment our souls touched. I almost had you…but he_ interfered. You have flouted your destiny and my embrace…I wonder how long you will continue?"_ the creature asked in Dilandau's haughty tenor. 

"I order you to leave this boy and this ship." The creature raised a stolen hand and caressed his cheek, tracing the tear shaped scar reverently. He flinched and took another step back. He felt the beginnings of a fear he hadn't felt since he faced down the earth dragon and lost. The creature's voice, he could hear it more distinctly with each word that his subordinate produced. It sounded of boreal winds fleeing between pillars of ruined civilizations and the scream of a thousand anguished souls. 

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"I do not ask for your fear, betrayer of man…I will discontinue my search and relinquish control of this body…Do not think to defy my will forever. I am the inevitable." The creature's brilliance faded from the pale boy's eyes and he looked around in confusion.

"What the hell am I doing here? Folken?" The man shuddered and brushed past. The darkness of the creature seemed to have sunk into his pores and sped of the degeneration of his body. 

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Dilandau screamed as he glared angrily into the mirror. A translucent face superimposed his own, red eyes dominating his own garnet orbs. Icicle fingers slid carelessly along his ribs and traced the contours of his spine. 

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"Have you faced the inevitable, killer of men? Are you ready to accept my sweet gift?" the darkness whispered through his mind. He could feel the entity's cold body press against, into and through his own. 

"Leave me the hell alone. Get out of my mind. Leave me alone, you bitch." Her soft chuckle wrapped around his ears and flowed into his blood. 

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"Perhaps I should show you my power…Reveal the beginning? I am something that you shall never be rid of…Death…Yes…They want me to show you…Understand my blessing…my curse."

The pale boy slammed into the ground as consciousness faded. 

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"It started as the dream of a young girl and like all innocent dreams it felt no darkness."

Dilandau found himself standing amid waving stalks of emerald grass. Sweet zephyr brought the scents of a wood burning stove and far off gardens. He turned about, seeing cerulean waters reflect the glowing sun and pale birds winging coltishly through the air streams. 

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"The girl grew up and knew sorrow. Her world of dreams reflected her bitterness and apocalyptic wars waged. Thousands died for her anguish and the very ground welled crimson."

A bacchanalia of destruction slammed into him. He felt the scorching lick of flames and inhaled the pungent scent of burning flesh and greasy smoke. Screams and shrieks rent the gray air and shadowy figures charged mindlessly, weapons raised in a futile mission. Armies of twisted humanoid creatures slashed each other to dripping ribbons of skin and muscle. Blood flowed in churning rivers to a scarlet ocean. 

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"She died, eventually, but her dream world continued to exist in the world of her female offspring. Generations breathed and vanished, each carrying this crystal world into new eras of prosperity and degradation."

Around him a thousands scenes of carnage and exultant joy whirled by. He saw cities rise and crumble into the grassy slope that spawned them. For a few minutes great flows of ice covered the landscape and obscured the sun in blinding white clouds. 

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"From this tortured world of girlhood disillusionment, I was created. I was the first…and last of my kind."

A young girl of six knelt beside the bloodied remains of another person. Her multicolored hair had been scorched in places and hung limply about her sooty face. Dilandau moved around to get a better look at her and the massacre surrounding them. Black smoke curled from burning buildings and the rasping groans of the dying echoed hollowly through the crimson landscape. 

"And I ruled the world." The small girl grinned serenely. Dilandau met her glowing red eyes and shuddered. Slowly she lowered her head and pressed her small lips above the corpse's heart. The blackened hulk shuddered, charred limbs twitching spastically.

He gasped, covering his mouth as his bile threatened to climb up his throat, and stepped away from the demonic child. The corpse heaved itself to its feet and stumbled away. From the burning village around them more climbed from the burning tombs and began to walk towards the setting sun. 

"My creations. My power." She stood up and held out a delicate hand to the young man. "The girl dreamed my existence and I fulfilled her every wish. I destroyed for her. I ripped the darkness from space and cradled this dying world in soft oblivion." The girl's voice was dulcet and gentle and echoed the husky contralto she would gain with age. 

"You are…were human? But how…that's not possible."

"I was never human, killer of men. The nightmares of a frightened girl spawned me. Her terror drew flesh across bone and her tears flow through my veins." 

Dilandau screamed as the ground fell away and he found himself submerged in a seething ocean of crimson blood. He struggled for the surface, but a thousand shrieking souls gripped his legs and held him in place. He saw her face above him, smiling with cruel knowledge. 

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"My armies spread and I consumed all…Then the hunger instilled in me found satiation. The hordes collapsed where they stood and sleep stole across my mind…and I dreamed.

"This dream world continued to pass through the original girl's descendents until the day a race of people aspired to be gods. The Atlanteans drew upon powers they thought they understood in a foolish attempt to surmount the final impediment of mortality. They ripped into an unknowing child's soul and brought this dreamscape into reality. It is true. This world was not of their creating, but merely the solidification of a child's abstraction. They killed the girl giving reality to this world…

"And so your world was born and its people breathed."

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"Do you see it? Do you understand why I hunger?" Dilandau felt the woman's cool hands stroking his face as her melodious voice slipped through his ears. _"I know not if my awakening has come…If my darkness is needed to once again purge the corruption from this earth…But I breathe and I burn to feel humanity's river slow beneath my finger tips."_

He moaned softly in despair as a tumult of images whirled haphazardly through his stunned mind. Her icy lips pressed briefly against his and she slid into his mouth, essence flowing back to curl cat-like around his heart.

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"Inevitability is all that you have left…I will wait for you patiently, killer of men. Come to me when you want respite from the pain or crave answers…You may wish me gone, but Death will always stalk those who slay the living."

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I feel guilty for complaining about the lack of reviews. Now people have and…I love you all. You're beautiful, wonderful and this story goes out to you all. Don't worry it ain't over yet, but don't let that discourage you from reviewing. Review!!


	5. Chapter Four: Darkest of Fates

Chapter Four: Darkest of Fates

The young men descended into the dusty cavern from a single swaying rope. Their boot clad feet landed among scraps of twisted metal and rocks. Dilandau looked around at the place where he had first heard the woman speak. The two guymelefs had been removed weeks ago and only metal fragments and fallen dirt marked their passage. He glanced up at the wan light drifting through the rift. Small flurries of dust and dirt whirled up with each footfall. Overhead small chunks of earth continued to fall down. 

"Lord Dilandau, what are you hoping to find?" Dalet asked with proper subservience as they navigated their way over the uneven ground, guided by the light of their torches. The young man in question ignored his soldier and stalked forward with determination. 

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"Come to me when you want respite from the pain or crave answers." He could still hear her dulcet voice whispering sweetly in his mind. Yes, he craved answers and he would get them. 

"What on Gaea…Lord Dilandau, this stream…" one of his men called out in a frightened voice. He strode to where Viole stood, staring at the dark liquid cutting a ragged channel in the ground. A metallic odor hung thick in the must air. He recognized the scent from a dozen battles. Most likely all of his men could identify it as well. They had seen as much as he after all. 

He knelt and dipped two fingers into the warm fluid. No surprise or shock showed on his face as he observed the scarlet dripping down his hand. Grimacing he wiped his hand clean on Viole's armor and stood. The Dragonslayers shifted restlessly about him, muttering about curses and angering the dead. A harsh glare was sufficient to quiet their babble. 

He cocked his head and listened intently to the surroundings. The stream hummed lowly and he became aware of the same tune emanating from _her_. He gazed at the blood-stream as it snaked onward and out of the glare of the torches. She stirred lazily and watched through his eyes with mild curiosity and copious amounts of amusement. 

Without a word he, knowing his men would follow, set off to follow the rushing liquid to its final destination. Their footfalls seemed almost sacrilegious in the cool darkness, as if they were treading upon the site of some unholy ritual. Mortals should not be exploring such a place for it was meant only for the dead. 

Dilandau ignored the uneasy mutterings of his men and plowed on. She laughed, drawing her cool fingers through his stomach, and urged him onward. In the uncertain flickering of torches the passage they dared to traverse appeared oddly natural. The uneven ridges and pocks attested to the lack of human hands, dead or otherwise. The only strangeness that remained, besides the stream of warm blood, was the very lack of life. No fungus grew despite the rich nutrients offered and no dark loving creature, not even insects, scuttled beyond the torchlight. The silence pushed down with leaden weight upon their ears and minds. 

"This is unnatural," someone murmured. "We shouldn't be here."

"Silence." She smiled with his mouth, but remained frighteningly silent. She seemed to know exactly where they were going and held their destination in great anticipation. 

A soft sigh echoed through the passage and everyone stopped. Dilandau held out his light to illuminate the obvious widening of the passage into a sizable cavern. The stream flowed indifferently in the same direction, never pausing, never stopping. A tight fist gripped his stomach that had nothing to do with her and more to do with a sort of uncertain apprehension. She pushed phantom hands against his back and goaded him onwards with wordless taunts. 

He straightened his shoulders unconsciously and stepped into the cavern. The sight and smell that greeted him almost drove him back. Everywhere bodies had been carefully stacked according to the degree of decay each displayed. At the bottom of the stacks mere skeletons clothed in dust grinned madly and at the top cadavers still bleeding sluggishly stared in dead shock. The putrid rank of death, a cloying sort of sweetness, forced its way into his lungs and nostrils. He choked and felt dark bile rush up his throat. Perhaps the oddest vision in this museum of death came from the strange marble well resting with elegant simplicity among such horrors. The stream rushed to fill a small moat about its base that never overflowed. 

"Sir…"

"Keep your guard up." Holding one hand to his nose. She laughed again and brushed through his mind.

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"There is no smell here, killer of men…You only think there is. Nothing…living exists here. These bodies are not decaying." He flinched as her insidious voice flavored his tongue and swirled through his ears. Then he found that she was right. The only odor was that of the dust being stirred up by their passage. _"Decay is a process of living…and dying. But death is moment that extends past eternity…You are right, killer of men…This place is not for the living."_ She chuckled softly, twining vaporous limbs about his own. 

Hand on the hilt of his sword he stalked towards that well, feeling that it would hold the answers she promised. A solid pounding, his heart beat, superimposed the obscenely cheerful song of the blood stream and the shuffle of booted feet against the cavern floor. Lances of anticipation jabbed at his stomach and intestines, spurring him to face whatever it was that he had come to face. 

Placing black gloved hands on the silken marble he hoisted himself up. The carmine liquid stirred with his breath and his red-hazed reflection returned his haggard gaze. A moment's relief surged through him when he saw only his own countenance and not the pale wraith of _her_ watching. As soon as he thought that, she ripped him open.

He choked, gagged, as she pulled out of his body. Her frigid limbs slid away from him and dived into the still liquid, the surface unruffled by her passing. Heaving pained breaths, he stared at his own reflection and felt a strange void in his body. 

"Sir? Are you okay?" his men demanded as they crowded about him. 

"What happened?"

A small crimson bubble rose to the surface of the well and burst, sending them all into silent contortions of terror. Swiftly more of those glassy red orbs rose to join the first of their kin. Something was coming up, something that should have remained sleeping. 

As one the young men stumbled away from the demonic well, swords already in hand. A hammering tension poured forth into the room, wrapping about them in strings of poisoned honey. Small ripples marred the blood's placid surface and snakelike fears sank their fangs into the hearts of the young soldiers. Dilandau could hear his heart and it beat with an alarming rapidity. 

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"Welcome to my home…The throne room of a dead Goddess," she sighed with fondness and mockery. From the gently stirring crimson an emaciated, wraith-like creature swam up. Skeletal limbs draped in inky veils pushed back strands of lank, multicolored hair. It was her, the girl he had seen in the form of a woman. Before their eyes muscle and tendon crawled across bone and throbbing veins wound their way about her form in a morbid dance. With the sound of shredding silk flesh spawned across the body and she was whole. 

The fiery coals of her eyes took in each man with benevolent coldness. She raised a pale, ethereal hand towards them as she lightly ascended from the sinister well. Her white lips flushed with color, but her cheeks remained a dead, marble white. 

"A goddess of Death," someone breathed in horrified reverence. She cocked her head to one side and smiled. 

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"Much more than that…I control that which I am…You have named me, but you don't fully…understand what you see." The words came as much from her mouth as from their very minds. She stalked towards them, the air sobbing with her trespass. From the piles of decayed and fleshless atrocities, a muffled moan could be heard. 

"Sir, we've go movement in here," Dalet cried slashing out at a shambling corpse that had slid from a stack and begun to move. 

With the celerity of a striking snake, her white hands shot forth and grabbed Dilandau. His men moved to wrest him from her chilling embrace, but the piles of cadavers, all moaning and twitching, impeded their efforts. She smiled ever so softly as she drew him close.

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"Here are your answers, killer of men…Take my gift and you shall know everything…The end of all and the beginning…It starts with me and I am the executioner." Her glowing red eyes seemed to hold the cosmos in sweet oblivion, a darkness that felt no pain, no loneliness. 

"I…" Her cold lips touched his and the world shattered.

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It's not over yet, but things are looking grim. Please review and I'll try not to creep myself out too bad so I can continue writing this. Much love to you all and thanks for your support. 


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